One & Only
by Heaven Star
Summary: Random, violent Farfie piece that never really started out as a Weiss piece but I adapted after I read it over the first time...constructive criticism greatly appreciated!


A/N: This is a one shot I wrote in the middle of English without realising it – I don't know where it came from, I just started writing and came up with the basic outline for this. Then the otaku side of my brain said, "Oooh! This could be a Weiss one shot!"...So, here to entertain you and hopefully extract some good reviews, is the finished product!  
  
Disclaimer: I wish I owned Weiss Kreuz, however the thought of the other fans who would beat me to death if I got to own them and they didn't put me off...that and lack of funds. So I'm content to borrow them for my own bishie torture – don't sue me.  
  
A/N: Final point – This fic contains violent imagery (to be read: contains Farfie...)if you have a problem with blood or violence etc. please don't keep reading and then complain to "the Higher Powers" or flame me. If you have the feeling you shouldn't be reading this – don't. You have been warned, if none of this bothers you feel free to keep reading and ignore this paranoid authors comment! ^_^;;  
  
One & Only  
  
The shining, still moist blade weighted in my hand, dripping while I waited. The velvet shadows of the night encompassed me with their seductive arms, keeping me safe. Behind me I heard the dull, crystal tones of blood dripping, to splash the unknown surface of the ground.  
  
One strung up on garroting wire had been decapitated – hanging people has interesting results where they drop too fast, I decided. His head lay a few feet away, a geyser shaped bloodstain marred a broken window and wall behind where he had stood, and the rest of his body was a slumped, oozing heap in the darkness. Only glints of blond mane and the flash of the patriotic white cross could be seen.  
  
The second had caught even me by surprise, the thin, razor wire I had meticulously placed near the doorway of the rickety, metal staircase that protruded rudely from the side of one of the buildings had caught. He had stepped out backwards and the wire promptly slid into the back of his neck, severing nerves and wedging itself between two vertebrae. The screech and sawing of nerves was music to my ears. His feet were now hanging about an inch off the stairs, having slipped off and imbedded the wire deeper. I've decided that the most beautiful dance in the world is one performed by a dying man suspended in the air, to twirl and writhe in panic and pain. Beautiful.  
  
It was he who was causing the shattering dripping sounds that removed the silence from this night. The half decapitation had caused his life filled liquid to seep from his wounds and pool at his collar before tricking down his torso, soaking his shirt and the lurid jumper he had tied about his waist, before eventually running down his legs to seep into his shoes. Trainers made of webbing do not hold blood well, it was squeezing out of the fine mesh to freedom on the midnight shadowed surface below their dangling points.  
  
The third had been thrilling. Gutted. He hadn't even seen me until my blade sliced through his tender abdomen and released the deep purple and red entrails that tumbled out in a trailing knot and spilling crimson liquid. Their owners blue eyes widened behind blond bangs and displayed shock before he fell with a cry of pain. God's will lies in innocence. I live to destroy it.  
  
A noise to one side of me. A reflex action sends my blade arm out, a gargling noise that sounds to me more joyful than a child's laugh. I feel the gushing blood flood over my hand, it's warm sanity soothes me as I turn. I realise then that I am holding two blades. My own wicked knife slicing through his mouth to protrude from the back of his skull its crimson spray camouflaged against his hair, the other a shining samurai sword driven through his ribs, thick blood dripped off the blade. Two swords? Oh, one was his. Sorry kitten.  
  
"Farfarello?" Nagi's voice crumbled my vision and dragged me unwillingly back to reality. I showed no response, instead I slowly pulled the blade from my mouth, scarlet ecstasy slipping over my tongue to slick my lips. "Crawford wants you to stop playing now. He needs photos to send to the top."  
  
Agonised I drew myself away from the new artwork I had placed on the wall. Nailed in the traditional crucifix position. Has anyone before presented kittens in such a way? I grin and snicker. Gods chosen death means for His son, so perfect for display purposes. For once He and I think along similar lines. The one and only time.  
  
A/N: Ok, so it's crap and violent. I never said it was *good* I just said it was violent! Gimme feedback so I can improve on it please! 


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